Addiction
by Zut Alors
Summary: I know what I'm doing to myself, Oliver. I don't need help and I don't want it.' AU Rated M for language, drug use, and possible content later on. LOLIVER.


"So, Eleanor…"

"So, Lillian…"

"I prefer Lilly, y'know."

"Ok, Lilly, would you mind telling me how you got addicted?"

She looked thoughtfully out at the window, fishing her answer in her mind. Her lip twitched like she was holding back some sort of facial expression. With her eyes downcast, she began.

"Well, it was right the day after my mom died. I was in the eighth grade…"

--

"Oliver! Where are you? We're about to give out assignments!"

It was Miley, the editor of the school paper and it was only the second day of school. This is how every school year began. Everyone was given their assignments. The freshmen were given the mindless jobs like typing and photocopying papers. It was only until they earned their column did they get it. You had to be a very good journalist to get a spot in the paper freshman year.

I had been one of them.

I was a senior now, and according to Miley, the best reporter the school paper had. Now, don't go thinking I'm a dork because I'm on the school paper. The paper at Jefferson was actually pretty cool. We published reports on interesting things, not just what the school told us to do.

One of the most important philosophies at Jefferson was honesty. So, through the paper, they let us be honest. Was there a scandal with the teachers? Report it. Someone expelled? Interview them. A lunch lady was randomly fired? Dig into the story.

So, while Miley handed off the sports column to Lucas and the advice section to Joanie, I just waited. I preferred to do random stories given to me by Miley. The editors had been giving me these since the tenth grade.

"Okay, Oliver," she said once everyone left, "I'm gunna give you something we've never tried before. I want you to do a report on the heroin addicts."

"What?" I was shocked, to say the least. Our school had a group of maybe ten or fifteen heroin shooters. No one talked to them or about them. Most of them were scared to death with what they did to themselves. Jefferson had their fair share of alcoholics and potheads, but even they were scared of the heroin addicts.

"C'mon, I'd make a great story! I'm not asking you to rat them out, not like the teachers don't already know who they are. I'm only asked you to do a report on their life. Don't mention anyone's name."

I stared at her skeptically. She gave me an annoyed look through her glasses. "You're serious?"

"Yes, I am. I think you could do it! I'm not even asking you to talk to the real scary ones. Only interview one if you have to! The school just wants to know, and it's our job to tell them!" That was classic Miley right there. She always convinced me to do the toughest stories by using the good of the student body excuse.

I sighed, "Fine."

"Thanks a million, Ollie! You don't have any idea how good this story is going to be!" She hugged me as a stood still, still pissed at her for making me do this.

But then she pulled away, back to her no-nonsense editor persona in a flash.

"You have until the end of November. Make it good, Oken."

--

I knew where to look.

After some digging, I found all the addicts hang out at one house. It was down in the quiet neighborhood with huge mansions. Who knew?

The girl's name was Lillian. I'd seen her around, but like most, I avoided her. She dressed in lose jeans and wore bandanas as headbands. She stood out from the Abercrombie girls in our school. But then again, the rest of her friends kind of stood out too. So I was off to her house, since that's where they all hung out.

On the way there, I thought about who I'd interview. I hadn't really given it much thought. I knew I only wanted to interview one person. One was scary enough. The boys had a reputation to be temperamental, and I'm sure they could beat me up. I'd haven to settle on a girl. I figured I should pick Lillian, because it was her house that I was going to.

And she looked the nicest, but I wasn't about to admit that.

I parked my car in front of her house, careful not to run the perfect green grass next to the sidewalk. My beaten old pickup didn't look right here.

I was about to walk up to the front door when I heard the sound of acoustic guitars from the garage. So instead, I headed off into the open garage.

_Jesus don't want me for a sunbeam. _

'_Cuze sunbeams are not made like me. _

_Don't expect me to cry, for all the reasons, you had to die. _

_Don't ever ask your love of me. _

Lillian was singing and playing a guitar with two other boys. The rest of the group sat in a circle around them. There were no drugs, just homework and music.

As I was standing in the entryway to the garage, clearly not belonging, Lillian looked up before the song was over, somehow sensing me there. She stopped playing and singing, and the two other boys, one of which I recognized from my Honors English class, followed suit.

I coughed, and the rest of the group turned around. I tried to hold back a blush. "Lillian?" I heard the one of the guitar players scoff, and the one in my English class elbowed him in the ribs, holding back a laugh of his own.

"Yeah?" she asked me. Her voice was clear, oddly different from her singing voice, which was hard and raspy.

"Um," I was at a loss for words. How was I to start this? "Can I, well, talk to you for a minute?"

She shrugged and put down her guitar. She told everyone she'd just be a minute, and walked out onto the driveway with me.

She led me to a bench away from the garage, closer to the other side of the house. I was happy that she gave us some privacy.

We both sat. "Oliver, right?"

I confirmed with a head nod.

"Any particular reason you came here?" she asked with raised eyebrows. I noticed she wore almost no makeup, just plain light brown eye shadow and brown mascara. You could barely see it against her fair skin.

I looked down at my shoes. I didn't really know how to ask if I could do a story on her. I figured just telling her flat out would be the best route.

"Well, for the paper, I was wondering if I could do a story on you…"

Her brow crinkled in confusion, "Me?"

"Yeah… and your…" How was I to phrase this? "…addiction."

Her lips made a silent "O" in realization. She looked at the ground, almost ashamed.

"Would you mention my name?" she questioned after a long while of thinking. I was surprised she was even considering.

"No, I wouldn't do that. I just want to do a story about what it's like. Why do it? A day in the life, really," I explained to her. She nodded in response.

"Yeah, I guess that would be okay. If I was gunna let anyone do a story about me and my drug abuse, it'd be you. I've read some of your stories, I love them."

I looked at her oddly, "You mean the one in the paper?" She didn't seem like the type to read the school paper.

She shook her head, "No, the ones in the literary magazines in school and stuff. I'm talking about the creative writing you do. I've also read some in the state creative arts festival."

That made sense. I've seen some of her art at the festivals too. It was all abstract, all paintings of people from our school. You'd have to really look to tell who they were, but I knew. I remembered one being a picture of a guy that was playing guitar with her. Another was of our old English teacher, Mrs. Ackerman.

"Thanks."

"So, are you just gunna interview me and stuff? Follow me around for a couple of days?"

I hadn't thought about that yet. "Yeah, I guess. Stuff like that. I've got until the end of November to finish this story, so we've got time."

"Yeah, that's good." She seemed distracted. Her eyes drifted off in the opposite direction of me. "Oliver, can you promise me one thing?" Her tone was softer then before, much different.

"Yeah, what?"

"Don't try to get me to stop. I know what I'm doing to myself, I don't want to stop. I don't want you feeling bad for me, and most of all, I don't want help."

I swallowed hard. Would I really be able to keep this promise after she tells me her story? I had no idea.

"Okay," I promised anyway.

--

_Keep in mind this is AU. They don't live in Malibu. I haven't decided if Miley will play a major part or not. I'm still thinking. Reviews are liked, as is critique. She's called Lillian in this because she's quiet in school, and only her friends (the addicts) know her good enough to call her Lilly. _

_The song Lilly was singing was "Jesus Don't Want Me For A Sunbeam" by the Vaselines. Really good song, check it out. The Nirvana Unplugged cover of it was great, too. _

_Oh yes, Lilly agreed to the story so easily because she respected Oliver as a writer, if you were wondering. _

_Sorry about the short first chapter. Things will start to get rolling in the next. _

_I don't think this will be that long. Six to eight chapters, maybe. If I get inspiration, it could be longer. _

_Review, review! _

_-Rachel_


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